𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ᵉ*ᵗᵐ

05 ┃ 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

━ ⭑─⭒━

━ ⭒─⭑━

Odysseus let his gaze drift across the grand hall, every muscle in his body taut beneath the ragged cloak that disguised him.

His eyes narrowed as he took in each suitor, noting the way they disrespected his home, their laughter cutting through the sanctity of his hall.

These were men who had grown fat and careless on his hospitality, who dared to feast on the resources of his land while vying for the hand of his beloved Penelope; unaware that their gluttony and arrogance would soon face reckoning.

Odysseus watched the suitors, one by one. There was Antinous, smug and sneering, the clear leader in brazenness and disrespect. He sat near the center, barking orders to the servants, his voice grating, his laughter cruel.

Not far from him, Eurymachus leaned back in his chair, his eyes roaming over the maids who moved about the hall, his grin spreading wider every time one of them blushed under his gaze.

But it was the brawny, red-haired suitor, Andros, who drew Odysseus' attention most tonight.

Andros was on his feet, striding towards Penelope, a confident swagger in his step that made Odysseus' fingers curl tightly under the table. Andros' scarred face, a testament to his battles, bore an expression of arrogance as he approached the queen.

"My lady," Andros began, his voice dripping with insincere charm, "you are as radiant as ever tonight. Truly, this palace, these halls—everything feels grander in your presence." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing his words before continuing.

"And of course, you have an array of fine young suitors here, all vying for your hand, each eager to prove himself worthy." He began slowly, the sweetness in his voice almost syrupy as he praised the beauty of the hall, the dignity of Penelope, and the devotion of the gathered men.

Then, the smile on his lips grew strained, and his tone hardened, the false charm giving way to impatience. "But, my queen, surely it is time to stop playing these games? Do you not think, after all this time, that Ithaca deserves a new king? That the kingdom, your people, deserve stability?" He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, but still loud enough for those nearby to hear.

"These delays... they serve no one. Least of all you."

Odysseus felt his anger rise, but he forced himself to keep his composure, swallowing the rage that threatened to boil over. Instead, his gaze shifted down the long table, allowing him a moment to rein in his emotions.

His eyes landed on Telemachus, who sat further down, trapped between two suitors. Telemachus was doing his best to remain civil, nodding curtly at whatever nonsense one of them, Leodes, was muttering.